


Eli

by GretchenSinister



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Gen, rated T for thematic elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-27 04:35:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19783372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GretchenSinister/pseuds/GretchenSinister
Summary: Original Prompt: "any pairing, ANYONE who dies heroically is reborn as a spirit of something And it is often but not always related to how they died. Jack Frost, who froze and drowned to death, becomes a part of winter. So someone who died in a house fire would become warmth, someone who died falling of a building would fly, etc."Jack is still trying to figure out exactly how he fits in the world, and he talks to a man named Eli about it. Eli doesn’t have any conclusive answers himself. (The premise of the prompt is still intact, but the mechanism for being reborn as a spirit still doesn’t give anyone any explanation, and well–what is heroism, anyway?)





	Eli

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr on 4/11/2016.

“So, you think that I was a human who died, too,” Jack says, following the thin, thin man around the kitchen. “But I can’t remember being human, and you can. You know how you died.”  
  
The thin man scoffs. “And what does that mean? You don’t look much healthier than me, and if you cannot remember, maybe you died from a blow to the head! I don’t know.” He ignores Jack for a moment, lifting a glass canister of flour, which grows visibly fuller as he shakes it. He takes a bag of potatoes from the pantry and looks at it, clucking his tongue. Jack blinks, and when he opens his eyes again, the potatoes are larger and the eyes sprouting from them much smaller. “All I know is that this is not what I was expecting after I had been giving Jacob what little food I had.” He curses. “Maybe that is why I am here! When I died I stopped being hungry, and I stopped feeling cold, and no one was threatening to kill me anymore! Jacob, living a little while longer, he would have suffered all of this, still. I did not take my own life, but my selflessness was selfish, too.” He picks up a bottle of vegetable oil. “You think if I gave them enough to last eight days, people would talk? I don’t want to cause a fuss.”  
  
Jack laughs and shakes his head, before his face turns serious again. “Have you ever thought of looking up Jacob? If he lived, he’d probably still be alive today.”  
  
“Sure! Let me just call up the immigration bureau and ask for Jacob. They can’t hear me. And even if they could, if Jacob is alive, I don’t know where he went. Maybe he even stayed! I know enough that if he lived he could have. But then, did he go to the east or to the west? Did he keep his name the same? If it had helped him live, I would tell him to throw away his father’s name in an instant.” The thin man shakes his head. “I can read English, you know. I’ve been to libraries. I know there is not a very good chance of Jacob being alive.” He sighs. “He was a good boy. I suppose it is good that I have not seen him as one like me.” He puts the heavier bottle of oil back on the pantry shelf and turns to leave the tiny house.  
  
Jack follows him. “So you think this is a punishment? Eli, wait!”  
  
“Wait, schmait,” Eli says, waving his hand at him. “You’re already dead and you can fly. You can follow me to the next house no matter if I’m rude or not.” He rolls his shoulders and makes his way down the cracked sidewalk. “I don’t know if this is a punishment. Maybe it is some sort of middle option. But I don’t think it’s some kind of reward for heroic sacrifice, either,” he says.  
  
“Why do you say that?”  
  
“I read the newspapers,” Eli says. “There was a man I read about, who saved dozens of children. He died—I don’t remember of what, a stroke, a heart attack maybe? Something quick, though—and I looked for him. If I was wandering around, doing the things I could because I had saved my son’s life, then surely this man would linger, too, with greater powers than mine. But I did not see him, and no one had, when I asked. So, in that asking, all I could figure then about me and those other lingerers was that we were not here because we had been heroes. But we were all dead, and we could do different things. Just like you, it seems to me.”  
  
“I still don’t think I’m quite the same,” Jack says. “I still don’t remember being human. I’m over two hundred and fifty years old. And if I was the same, wouldn’t more people talk to me—people in the same situation, I mean.”  
  
Eli opens the door of the next house. “There are those who linger that are older than you. Maybe they just don’t hang around you because you’re always asking questions. I think it is a good trait, but I’m dead and my judgment can’t be trusted. Anyway, why don’t you know more than me, if you’re so old?”  
  
“Maybe because I’m dead and my memory can’t be trusted,” Jack says.  
  
“Well. I will let you know if I get any answers from anyone, even the one I’ve been asking questions of and hearing nothing from since I was put on that horrible train,” Eli says, and picks up two onions and puts down ten. 

**Author's Note:**

> Tags and comments from Tumblr:
> 
> #let's hope I didn't mess up with Eli
> 
> eatherstar reblogged this from gretchensinister and added:  
> I really like the concept. I’d never have thought of those powers. I also like how subtly you handled why he starved. You gave enough clues without spelling it out for us.
> 
> mira-eyeteeth said: Oooh, I really like the description and mechanism of Eli’s abilities. Is he from a story? I don’t recognize him.


End file.
